


7:25 am

by Powerfulweak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega!Castiel, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/pseuds/Powerfulweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every morning during his run, Dean smells it: Omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7:25 am

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real attempt at A/B/O

7:25 am, every morning. Like clockwork.

Everyday, during his morning run, Dean smells it.

He winds his way through the paths and trails of the park. He passes the townhouses, worth up to a half a million dollars, but only slightly larger than his own two bedroom apartment, wondering what the appeal is (of course, he knows, it’s all in the location). He forgoes his iPod in favor of the sounds of nature and the beat of his footfalls. He focuses on the workday ahead of him, making lists of the things he needs to do, phone calls he needs to make, noting that he needs to get Sammy a birthday gift. He passes other runners, nodding his head in a customary greeting, and playgrounds full of young children and their nannies. He checks his heart rate, his pace, trying to break a 7 minute mile. Everyday, his usual route. And everyday, at 7:25 am, he smells it: _Omega_.

Not just any omega. The most delicious omega he has ever smelled.

The first few times he smelled it, he assumed it must be something in the park, a flower or a tree maybe. It was sweet and fresh, like ripe pineapple or crisp green apples. It never came from the same area of the park, though. The scent seemed to drift; sometimes it was strongest near the center fountain or by the large oak tree next to the picnic pavilion. It would change, too. In the winter it seemed to grow warmer, taking on slight hints of cinnamon and currant. During the summer months, it developed caramel-ly qualities that would make Dean’s mouth water and spur him to get the biggest iced caramel latte Starbucks offered (he earned it, he ran that day).

It took months before he began to think it might be a person, an omega, and after that his obsession with the scent began. Some days, he seemed to chase the scent around the park, trying to catch where it was strongest, leaving him sore and half-hard at the end of his run. He would go into work, unable to concentrate, dreaming of the perfect omega with that overwhelming scent. He’d find himself staring out his office window in the direction of the park, wondering if his omega was down there right now, luring in other alphas. The thought made Dean release a low growl, much to his surprise. He was never the type of alpha to buy into the notion of true mates or scents drawing partners to one another, but it was hard to argue with his own biological reactions. If this was an omega, and he was almost sure it was, every aspect of his being was telling him to find it and claim it.

An entire year passed. Every morning, no matter where he was in the park, at 7:25 am, he would find the scent. A whole year, driving himself to the brink of madness and jerking off in the shower as his knot swelled with the scent of his treasured omega lingering in his memory. _At least there is some physical benefit to this sexual frustration_ , Dean thought, noting how his body fat percentage was now under 10%.

He had a late start today, needing to clean up his kitchen after the ‘Stop and Pour’ on his coffee maker had jammed, causing watery grounds to spill all over the counter. He worried he might miss the scent as he squeezed a rag of the gritty, brown liquid over the sink, rushing to get the mess cleaned up and out the door.

As his feet hit the path, Dean smiles. Right on time, he thinks. He hits his stride about a mile in, the scent tickling his nostrils. Today, it’s the apple-and-pineapple scent with a slight hazelnut undercurrent, reminding Dean of Nutella. He can see another runner coming down the path, male, dark hair, wearing a white shirt and blue shorts. As they pass, Dean gives him a terse smile and the compulsory nod, but something is off. He can’t put his finger on it. The scent has changed suddenly and intensely. Dean slows down, urging his mind to catch up with what his body is already telling him. He stops in the middle of the path, breathing heavily, not because he is winded but in order to take in the scent.

That scent. It’s him. The man who just passed. His _Omega_.

Dean instantly turns on his heel and begins jogging towards the man. He begins to notice details he hadn’t caught before: the definition of his calves, the sweat stain slowly growing down the back of his shirt, and the Scent. Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ, the _SCENT_! It’s the strongest Dean has ever smelled. It’s deliciously sweet with the pungent overtones of chocolate and cinnamon. Dean can feel himself growing hard and it’s making running much more difficult. He picks up the pace, resisting the urge to sprint toward the omega. He can see the man less than 500 ft. from him.

Dean tries to think logically about how he will approach this guy. _Hi! How are you? Nice weather, huh? You wouldn’t mind if I shoved my knot up your ass, would you?_

Dean knows that if he comes at this situation wrong, he would be justifiably pepper-sprayed. There are already enough issues with omegas being attacked and forcibly knotted in public spaces like this. There are alphas out there who still seem to think that omegas are meant to be left barefoot, bred and collared, but Dean isn’t that type of alpha. No, he’s a progressive alpha. He wants to be suave and charming, take this omega out, wine and dine him, but deep within the animal recesses of his brain, a steady chant of _find omega, claim omega_ is rising.

Dean begins to close the distance between himself and his ( _no, not his. not yet_ ) omega. Could it be his imagination, or is the omega speeding up as well? Dean can barely focus as another wave of the scent hits his nostrils and the sounds of nature are drown out by the blood rushing past his ears and the thrum of _omegaclaimmate_ running through his mind. The last shred of his lucidity slips away with a silent cry of _“Quit chasing this guy like a fucking psycho!”_

Dean breaks into a sprint, a growl rippling through his chest as his omega cuts to the right. Dean immediately follows. He is close enough to hear the harsh pants and wheezes of the man, a small smile crossing his face as he imagines the omega making those same sounds while riding his knot. As he comes up on the man’s left, Dean spins like a quarterback avoiding a blitz, cutting off his path and coming to a stop in front of the man.

The omega stops suddenly, his chest rising and falling heavily. For the first time, Dean gets a good look at the man’s face: a sharp jaw lined with stubble, soft chapped lips slightly open as he tries to regulate his breathing, thick, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and the most piercing light blue eyes Dean has ever seen, filled with fear and trepidation. He’s fucking beautiful and now, more than ever, Dean knows that he wants this omega for himself. They stand facing each other no movement except for their chests as they both gasp for air. Moments stretch out like an eternity.

Without warning, the omega switchbacks and jets forward. Dean barely has a half-second to think before his animal side takes over. He launches toward the omega, grasping his shoulders, spinning him around before shoving him into the bushes off the side of the path.

Dean could whoop with glee at finally having his omega in his arms. He has him pinned to the ground, strong hands clasped around his tight shoulders. Dean can’t resist leaning down and pressing his nose below the man’s jawbone, taking in the concentrated scent that has been driving him mad for a year. He tentatively darts out his tongue, taking in one lap and moaning at the explosion of flavor it incites.

“Fuck, you taste so good” Dean pants as he continues to press his face into the omega’s neck and collarbone. He pulls back to get a good look at the omega, heavy eyes and blown pupils trained on him. The face beneath him is like stone, but the watery blue eyes are concentrated on Dean’s. The rational side of Dean’s brain finally surfaces with the realization of what he has done.

He has just attacked a defenseless omega in a public park. He could be, no, he will be charged with assault and attempted rape. He will lose his job and his family. Sam will find out. His mom will find out. _FUCK_.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, concern filling his features as he tries to give the omega more space. He want to say something, but he knows ‘sorry’ won’t really cut it in this scenario. As he opens his mouth to talk, the corners of the omega’s mouth slowly pull into a wide grin. Dean feels a laugh bubble up through the chest beneath him.

“About time you caught me, Alpha,” the omega chides. “Didn’t think we’d be playing this game for a whole year, though. Damn.” Dean’s brow furrows, his confusion evident. A game? Is that what this was? Dean had been left sexually and mentally frustrated for an entire year because this crazy omega wanted to play a game?!

Dean is about to say something, when the man below him simply smiles at him, placing a hand softly at the side of Dean’s face, before rushing forward and capturing his mouth in a fevered kiss. Dean is on overload, punch-drunk with the scent of his omega combined with the taste of his mouth and skin. A soft tongue presses against his own and his hands move off of the man’s shoulders and onto the back of his head, fingers lightly grasping sweat-slicked hair. The omega moans into Dean’s mouth as he arches his body up, pressing his hardening length into Dean’s. Nails run down Dean’s back, over his t-shirt sweat-soaked. Dean shudders, pulling away from the kiss and once again pressing his face into the crook of his neck, pressing his own scent into the omega’s. He lays his forehead onto the man’s collarbone, trying to concentrate on what to do next.

“I’m Dean, by the way” he says, breathing erratic, but no longer because of the run.

“Castiel,” the omega says calmly.

“Do you have work today?” Dean’s words are muffled as he plants kisses up Castiel’s neck and jaw.

“I’ll call in,” the omega stretches his head back, allowing more room for Dean’s ministrations.

“Good” Dean responds as he nips lightly at Castiel’s jugular, causing a small gasp from the man. The omega places his hands on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him up so that he can look at him while he’s talking.

“Look, Dean, as much as I would love for you to knot me right here and now, I’d prefer for our first time to be somewhere where we don’t risk rolling around in dog shit or getting arrested.” Dean lifts his head, taking in their very public surroundings, and nods. The two men separate and stand up, dusting the dirt and leaves off of their clothes.

“Do you live far from here” Castiel asks.

“A few blocks.” Dean responds, the ache to touch his omega growing strong again, “60th and West.”

“What number?”

“660. Apartment 2B” Dean replies. Castiel nods, as if considering this information. He turns to Dean with a wicked grin and a wink.

“Race ya!” Castiel teases and he surges forward like a bat out of hell. Dean is dumbstruck for a moment before a wry smile crosses his face and he disappears after his omega.


End file.
